High Hopes
by Swirling Dreams
Summary: Rumpelstiltskin discovers that Belle's time in confinement has made her take nothing for granted, even color. And so he decides to start the first of many apologies to her in those first two weeks. Sweet little one-shot, Rumbelle.


**I know the finale is today but bear with me, this might be AU after tonight, who knows? I don't usually write AU stuff…that'd be kinda cool. Anyways! Enjoy! Nice little one-shot.**

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The day that Rumpelstiltskin had brought Belle home from the hospital, he had greeted her with a bouquet of roses the colors of a sunset–light pinks, oranges, creams, scarlets–and the look on her face had been well worth the time it had spent him to get them. She had already been happy to see him, but when he had pulled the roses from behind his back, she had been speechless. The way she had looked at them, with such unadulterated wonder, anyone would've thought she was beholding an infant instead. She had pulled them up to her face to bury her nose in them, breathing in the perfume, and at one point she opened her eyes and looked up at him as she inhaled. The sight had made him feel dizzy: the combination of her bright blue eyes with the multicolored roses against her smooth creamy skin…the perfect balance between light and color reminded him of something Rembrandt would paint.

And then he had seen her shut her eyes, the way one does to stop from crying.

"Is anything the matter, dearie?"

"It's just…" She had wiped her eyes, embarrassed. "The color. It's so lovely. I never saw much color in my room is all."

He had clenched his fists so hard that his knuckles had turned white, in loathing for the woman who had done this to her. Twenty-eight years, in a single room, deprived of everything that was good in life–that would crush anyone, but for someone as lively as Belle, who sought adventure and excitement, the experience must've been unbearable. People didn't yearn for life the way she did, and to be cut off from it in such a cruel manner must've hurt her deeply, in a way that it could only hurt _her_. And it had hurt her to the point where she didn't even take _color_ for granted.

It had made him sick with anger, and he had sworn, then and there, that she would never feel such emptiness again.

She was sick for those first couple of weeks, and though he was worried for her condition, he was also thankful for the time he had to work on his first apology. It wasn't enough for everything that he had put her through, but it was a start. It took him no less than two weeks, and by then Belle had fully recovered, so that last day of those two weeks, he finally yielded to her request.

"May I please go outside? I'm all better now, really I am." She said, and she looked so adorable that he was glad she actually _was_ all better, because he honestly didn't know if he could've denied her _anything _when she was looking at him like that.

"Mm…" He said, tapping his chin, pretending to mull it over. She just grinned at him, knowing that he would cave. "Yes, I suppose you–" But she had already leapt out of bed, completely dressed, and run out of the room before he could finish. "–can." He chuckled at her enthusiasm.

Clutching his cane he walked out into the hallway where she was already examining a bookshelf with great interest. "Don't run off just yet, I have something to show you first."

Her eyebrows furrowed for a moment in thoughtful curiosity. "What is it?"

"It's outside." He smiled and gestured down the hall. "May I escort you, Miss French?"

She smiled back at him and gave a nod. "I'd be delighted."

So they walked down the staircase to the kitchen, and through the door leading to the back porch.

"I would like you to close your eyes if you feel comfortable." He knew the allure of a mystery would be enough to make her close her eyes, but what he didn't know was that she had a very compelling desire to have him close to her, and so he was surprised when she linked her arm through his for guidance as he began to lead her off the porch and onto the grass. She wasn't wearing shoes and as it was still morning, she slipped once on the wet grass, and he dropped his cane to catch her. She opened her eyes, and with his arms wrapped around her back and the utter brilliance of her eyes boring into his, Rumpelstiltskin became aware of just how much he had wanted to kiss her these past two weeks, and how easy it would be to do so right now. But Belle's voice shattered his train of thought.

"Sorry. I guess I'm just excited. Thank you." This felt incredibly familiar to her, as though he had stopped her from falling before.

"Just be more careful, dear." He said as he helped her stand. She closed her eyes again, and he wrapped his spare arm around her waist and led her onwards.

And then they reached it.

"We're here." He said, and she opened her eyes, and the joy, wonder, and surprise that washed over her features was so wonderful that Rumpelstiltskin had to grip onto his cane to keep from falling over.

He had planted her a garden. Lilacs, daffodils, marigolds, and most importantly, roses had been woven together in a short maze, complete with a stone path and a bench. He hadn't done such manual labor since he had become the Dark One, but the look on her face had been worth every bit of dirt under his fingernails, every drop of sweat, and every thorn in his palm. She walked away from him, breaking from his arm, and walked towards the nearest rose bush. She kneeled on the ground, looking at the red flower, laced with drops of dew that looked like crystals in the sunlight. She fingered its petals and sighed, not a weary sigh, but one that indicated that she was too happy to hold it all in.

"Oh, Mr. Gold. This is…this is beautiful. Thank you." She turned towards him. "Thank you."

He bowed his head, attempting to hide a bit of the huge smile that had taken his face hostage. Belle closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him as close to her as possible. He was stunned, and didn't know what to do with his hands for a few seconds, but he soon regained his senses and let them fall into place at her hips.

This was glorious. She was warm, and her heart was beating into his chest, and she smelled warm and rich, not overpoweringly so–like vanilla, or cloves that had been soaked in sunbeams. And no one had actually embraced him since…well, it had been a long time.

He had high hopes for her. She had recognized him at the hospital (which was what had allowed him to actually negotiate taking her home), although she didn't know who he was, and he hoped that she would ultimately remember the right things. The real things. And he knew that when she did, that she would forgive him, because she was so much stronger than him, and so much kinder. And if he had faith in nothing else, in this wretched, awful, magic deprived world…he had it for her, and her bravery, which he knew was so strong that it would always transcend worlds and lifetimes. But even if she didn't remember, her company was enough for him.

But as the embrace continued, for what he knew to be longer than customary, he couldn't help but think that if this was how it was going to be until she regained her memories, that he didn't think the wait was going to be so unbearable after all.

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**So, first Rumbelle fic. Hope you guys liked it. You should review. It'll give you something to do before the finale comes.**


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